


Meteor Shower

by RoosterTeethFanfics



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, Heartbreak, Loneliness, Long-Distance Friendship, Love, M/M, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoosterTeethFanfics/pseuds/RoosterTeethFanfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I can finally see, that you're right there beside me<br/>I am not my own, for I have been anew<br/>Please don't let me go, I desperately need you...<br/>~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~</p><p>Michael will deny all of it. The airport, the tiny cuts lining his wrist, even the blanket that strangely smells profoundly of tea. To him, never happened. But you cannot erase a meteor shower.</p><p>Gavin will laugh it off. The white rooms, holding the man's hand, or sending love letters to another guy back in Austin, Texas. Gavin was a meteor shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Smell of an Airport

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! You may be visiting from my tumblr, if so, Welcome :)  
> If not, you can see me at http://i-am-the-abnegation.tumblr.com/  
> This is not my first fanfiction, but this is my first to contribute to Roosterteeth.  
> I accept criticism, just don't be an asshole. Constructive criticism is always welcome. I want to make this more enjoyable.
> 
> ***TRIGGER WARNING: Depression, anxiety disorder, self-harm, suicidal thoughts/maybe actions. Not sure where this is going yet.***  
> Please enjoy ;)

It started off slowly, like the sun leaning into the Earth at night, as Gavin was the Sun and Michael was the observer left in the night.

It started with an outburst, a sudden yell coming from the quiet conversing pair of men, Geoff and Gavin. The room smelled like fresh waffles. It was only seven in the morning, and the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. The office had just opened, but Michael had ended up staying late last night, doing some voice recordings for RWBY with Monty. In his delirious, hungry state, he sat, unmoving, an eavesdropper eating baked goods.

"What are we going to do to cover for you?" Geoff followed the bristish boy, twisting his facial hair nervously inbetween his fingers. Geoff's voice was concerned, both for the company and his prodigy. He was the 'dad' of them, so obviously, seeing anyone in Achievement Hunter upset was like seeing Millie cry, a tremendous pain.

Gavin's hands were in his face, covering his red cheeks from the rest of the people in the break area's kitchen. Michael sat stiffly in the corner with his untouched food. His ears had been listening in on the conversation since Gavin came in the office looking so stressed. Whether he liked it or not, seeing him like this upset him.

Michael didn't get upset easily, hell no. That wasn't him. He got lonely. He never liked to admit that he, himself, was a needy person. He was not going to ask anyone for anything, no matter how much his stomach churned for relief of anxiety. He dug his thumb nail into the palm of his hand and sat quietly, keeping in his two cents.

"I have to-"

"Gavin. We have four let's plays to film _this week_." Geoff enunciated. And that was true. Two long filming sessions for the next King Ryan and Monopoly X, etc. This was one of their busiest weeks.

"My best friend is in the hospital!" He turned to face the mustached man swiftly. A few salty drops lined the creases and bags in his eyes. "It's my fault that all this happened, and I have to make it up to him." He hauled a few items- a bag full of assortments of candy, a phone, a wallet, and a plane ticket. He had taken most of that from his desk. The ticket looked new and fresh in his clenched hand.

Geoff paused. He tenderly touched him on the shoulder, looking him solidly in the eyes. "You do what you need to do, but come back as soon as possible." His only response was a slow nod and a wipe of snot off his protruding nose.

"Michael." He spoke carefully, as if not to scare awake the sleeping depression in the room, but his tiny whisper was a stab in the heart and a blaring wake up call. "Come help me pack." He demanded. He had no need to ask.

"Yeah, dude." His words came out of his mouth like a scared child. He coughed, trying to possibly gather some confidence, some bravery.

He pushed his cold food aside, following Gavin outside, past Kara, who gave a sad glance up to the two boys. "Bye, Vav." Kara said as the door opened. She sat calmly behind the desk, thumbing a pen around in her hand. She must have overheard the outburst. "Goodbye." He gave a weak smile. He was being strong.They exited the building together, and walked silently to Gavin's car.

The drive was near silent, except for the radio that blared cheesy music. Michael focused his ears on that, ignoring the small sniffles from the man next to him.

_I can finally see, that you're right there beside me._

"Michael," Gavin started. The ginger lifted his head, only to meet eyes with him. "I'm sorry, boi."

Only then did he really take in how disheveled Gavin was. Tears were drying on his cheeks, getting overlapped by thin, fresh ones. His nose dribbled like a child's, and he wipped it off carelessly. His hair was knotted and flattened from his sweaty hands running through it. He looks like he slept in the clothes he was wearing, and he did. He woke up, and headed straight to the office to say goodbye for a while. He had to get one good nights sleep before seeing his best friend in a pale white room and never being able to sleep again.

"It's okay." He was abnormally quiet. Michael was deep in his own place right now. He played scenarios out in his head over and over again, recording them so he can see them again tonight. Maybe Gavin _would_ come back. Maybe Gavin would see some redeeming quality in the angry ginger. Maybe Gavin loved him just as much as he loved tea, science, and Roosterteeth itself. But that was a lot of commitment.

"Hey." He chimed in, breaking into Michael's thoughts.

"Yeah?" Michael turned his head to look at the road in front of them, a wide stretch of black concrete and traveling cars. "You're my boi, Michael." His voice oozed affection and care from every pore.

_I am not my own,_

"You're my boi." He repeated. He was flustered.

_for I have been anew._

"You know I'll be back." Gavin said. "I'm not leaving you." His heart leaped in his chest. His anxiety flip-flopped, and every breath was a new gasp of fire.

_Please don't let me go._

_I desperately need you._

Michael rolled the volume down instantly, covering his eyes with one hand. They watered, and he sucked them back in like they were nothing. He was struggling not to grab Gavin's hand and beg him to stay, beg him not to leave him alone with the empty desk next to him in the office.

A warm hand snuck it's way into his curls, softly and sweetly. Michael broke under Gavin's hand. Loud, ugly sobs poured out of his mouth.

"Boi, I'm right here."

"No," He said through thick tears, "you're going to leave and leave me alone for a long time." He choked out each word like it was a poison he needed to get out of his throat, like sulfur burning his lungs. "You don't understand."

Gavin recoiled, taking those words like a punch in the face. He lifted his arm away and back to the steering wheel, blinking away tears threatening to spill out. "Dan has glass in his body a mingy infection. Michael, he has no one else to visit him." He swallowed. "He could die. Kick the bucket. Mullered." No response.

The car pulled up to his apartment complex, picking a spot near the stairs so they could carry his luggage down from the fourth floor. Gavin began to unbuckle, kicking open the door with his foot and grabbing some bags to put them in the trunk.

"Can I go too?" Michael broke the silence in the foggy atmosphere. His tears chilled to his face. Gavin didn't understand for a moment, like, yeah, he needed help packing, but he caught on what Michael meant. His companionship would mean the world to him, but Geoff was already angry. 

"That's nonscence. You have to be at work." And it was silent.

Michael forced himself to pack up the objects in Gavin's house. He was delicate with all of his clothes. He hugged and kissed his blankets, so maybe at night, Gavin could figure out he really loved him. He really loved him. Michael _really fucking loved him_. But Gavin was too much of an idiot to figure that out. Michael sobbed deeply into Gavin's favorite blanket, and thought about leaving it in his apartment so he wouldn't see the tear stains when he was in his motel room in London, thousands of miles away. He stuffed it up his shirt in a way that it wasn't totally bulging out. It look like he gained ten pounds from just sitting there. It was still warm and soft against the skin of his belly.

Gavin entered the room, and simply waved a hand for Michael to follow him. He complied, bringing his friend's clothes close behind him, and down four painful flights of stairs. He loaded it into the small trunk of Gavin's car, breathing heavilly from the excercise, and climbed into the empty passenger seat again.

The drive to the airport was dead silent. The Jersey boy was too frightened to turn on the radio again, in fear that another song may cause a fit, a fit that might anger or upset Gavin, so Michael shut his eyes and blocked away the world. And, much to Michael's dismay, they were there within twenty minutes. He had twenty minutes to really figure out what he was going to do. He figured out nothing. His mind was blank, the back of his throat was sickly sweet, like he was going to vomit up ice cream, and the back of his head throbbed in distress.He exited the car, his heart pounding.

Michael had always hated the smell of airports, clean and sanitary, but the floors were covered in pieces of broken hearts. He was at one when his father was deported, and he was there when the officials told him his father was shot at war, even though they were there waiting for him to appear. He was there when his brother moved to Alaska, and he hasn't spoken to him since. Now he was to just watch someone he adored walk away. Maybe for a year. Maybe forever. He knew Gavin was not coming back until his friend was perfectly fine.

His plane was not to depart for five minutes. Michael had really procrasinated packing, hoping maybe Gav would be late for his flight and stay home. He felt guilty about thinking so selfish. It seems they made it just in time, though. He had five minutes to say everything, take down the walls before he put them back up again.

"I promise," He heard the British accent in a low whisper, as they sat in the chairs outside of the boarding area where his plane was. "I'll be back within a year. I promise my life on it."

Michael had long since stopped crying. His eyes were dry as he looked at him. Gavin had a smile on his face, a real one. "You swear?"

"I bloody swear!" He laughed. "Don't worry about it, Mikey. I'll be back before you can say 'Rage Quit.'"

"Rage Quit." He spoke hoarsely. "Rage Quit, Rage Quit, Rage Qui-"

Gavin pulled his head closer, placing his forehead upon his. "I'm not even gone yet, bugger." He smiled. Michael smiled for the first time today, taking in the look of the other man's deep hazel eyes. He wouldn't see them for a while. His irises were hazel in the middle and expanded out to a blue-green color, like an island in a big ocean. Michael would've given anything to be on that island. He made a mental note of the British man's face in general.

"Flight to London, now boarding." The intercom said.

Michael's smile dropped. He pulled away. Gavin's smile was gone now too. He stood up clumsily, leaning on the chair. Michael stood with him, and the world seemed to slow. It's like his mind wanted every single moment to span a lifetime.

"I'll send letters, lad." He said quietly. He averted his eyes from Michael's and looked at the floor.

Michael blushed hard, tears lined his dry eyes. He felt queasy. He grabbed Gavin's hand roughly. "Gav..." He wanted to say ' _stay here_ '. He wanted to beg and cry and scream and just take him home forever. But here he was, Gavin Free, going back home. His real home. A moment of silence passed. Gavin took this time to grab the ginger boy's face and plant his lips directly on his, and Michael felt and heard his quick breathes on his cheek. He took in how soft his lips were, and how Gavin might be feeling the tears running down his cheeks. He prayed Gav didn't feel the blanket under his shirt. That would be all Michael could hold on to.

"Final call for the flight to London."

"Goodbye, Micool." Gavin gave one last teary look, and ran to the gate. The jacket on his back flurried in the speed of his dorky run.

Michael stood there for five minutes, then an hour, just staring at where Gavin was. It would be about two in the afternoon before he stopped crying and went home.

In the night, Michael held the blanket as close as possible.

It would be a year and a half before they met again.


	2. I'm Nothing Like a Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The positive notes I've been getting have made my world. I will positively keep writing. I have plenty in store :)

Upon returning to work, he found Gavin's desk completely cleared. He searched the drawers and under the table but not a hint that Gavin ever existed was there. It's like he was erased for Achievement Hunter completely.

"Geoff." Michael spoke up to Geoff as he entered the office with a sandwich and a beer. "What happened to his stuff?"

"What?" Geoff began to sit down, making himself comfortable on the other side of the room where his desk was.

"Gavin's stuff!" Frustration leaked out. "Where the fuck is his stuff?"

He had enough to deal with. It'd been a week and Michael was in shambles. He took a few days off, and came back to find out everyone forgot about the British boy. Did Gavin even exist? How was he to know? Everyone suddenly forgot about the fucking awesomest person in this office. Michael adored Gavin though. He would never, not in a million years, forget that he ever touched Gavin's lips tenderly like that. Getting rid of Gavin's things would change that? No.

"Gavin's in another country," Geoff started slowly, speaking so calmly as if not to anger the flaming red head. "He won't be back for a while-"

"He promised less than a year!"

"They don't have enough money, dick face." Geoff snapped. He turned his chair quickly, knocking an empty glass off the desk. It shattered into about twenty pieces on the floor, each thin, sharp, and yellow-tinted from liquor. "Fuck!" Geoff yelled. He turned back around, and continued. "They don't have enough money to pay for Dan's surgery."

"Dan? That's who was hurt?" Michael was dumbfounded. Gavin had refused to tell him who had got hurt. He had assumed it was one of his old classmates. He guessed Gavin had to tell his boss who exactly was injured so he could take his 'vacation'.

"Let me finish." Geoff took a swig of the full beer on his desk. "He was filming some slomo-shit. A glass explosion happened. Some pieces hit Dan pretty hard. They were able to remove the one's from they found in his arm. Gavin and him never knew that one had lodged itself pretty close to his heart, near a rib."

Michael listened intently as the man continued. A sickness filled his stomach. Dan-the-Man was _really hurt._

"It's infected. Gavin's having some guilt issues for not checking Dan out fully and finding it sooner." Geoff's voice had softened by now to his fatherly voice. "It's like Gavin's experiencing a death in the family, except he's not dead y-"

"Dan's not going to fucking die!" Michael yelled. Even insinuating that... Gavin would be crushed. His blood boiled under his skin, and he gripped his desk chair roughly, digging his nails into something that wasn't alive. It still seemed to calm him. "He'll be fine."

"That's not what I meant!" Geoff put his hands up in protest, an act to maybe fix any misunderstanding. Michael breathed in deeply, and hearing this, Geoff continued. "Gavin's taking it like he died."

"He is?" Michael saw the sincerity in his eyes. Geoff wasn't making jokes. Gavin, the happy lad, was really taking this hard. The outburst last week seemed to be just his reaction to the whole thing at once, while he was in shock. In all honestly, Michael hadn't talked to him since the kiss. He was afraid Gavin would be hurt to hear his voice when he was so far away, or maybe he'd change his mind about Michael completely. Not a text, not a phone call, and he was still waiting for that letter. Geoff was right though. Gavin really was taking it hard.

Geoff asked Michael to clean up the broken glass next to his desk, and in return, Geoff  _might_ grab him a beer too. Michael may have pocketed a piece or two of the shrapnel, but to be honest, he had no idea why. But no one saw, and no one would find out. Plus, he got a free beer. Win-win. 

 

~

He opened his eyes in the stiff chair, and the room was snow. Pure white, as it was before he ever went to sleep. Dan's upper lip twitched as he slept. He held a somewhat solemn look on his face, his eyebrows dipping ever so sightly outwards. His beard was growing thick. It had been unshaven for about a week now.

Gavin reached his hand out to his, honestly kind of expecting Dan to wake up and take it. Gavin grabbed it himself. The man had rough skin all over his hands, but they were always warm. Tracing his finger over the scar on Dan's own finger, Gavin wondered back. This was a scar from just _one_ piece of glass. It was hard to imagine Dan with about ten of those on his arms. At the moment they were somewhat swollen and were stitched up in most areas. The glass had gone deep, and the doctors told him Dan was screaming so loudly as they were trying to pull them out (even with numbing) that they had to knock him out.

This was Gavin's fault. There was no denying any of this. No one could deny that he may have killed his best friend. Pericarditis and some minor Pleural Effusion was what the doctors said. But for Gavin, it was homicide. It was murder. He always put Dan in the dangerous spot, and now he was in the safest spot on Earth, withering away like a skeleton.

Surely Dan hadn't eaten for at least two days. There were tubes stuck to his body everywhere, but the man just kept losing weight. His strong exterior had slowly been wittling away. The Pericarditis has been giving him extreme abdomen pains and it was too much for him to be able to eat. Dan was on tubes.

Gavin pulled out a notebook from his bag. Maybe he'd start that first letter to Michael, telling him he was okay. He needed to tell him what he was thinking. He thumbed through it, looking for a suitable page. The first page he opened to made his eyes well up ever so slightly, daring to spill out.

Two sloppy stick figures, an auburn-headed nerd and a big nosed nerd, held hands on the middle of the page. 'I miss you so much.' was sprawled all over, on each line of the paper. little hearts surrounded the figures like bats.

Gavin's vision blurred and when he could see again a clear liquid splattered on the page. He overflowed. More dripped down. Some of the words smeared, and he turned the pages rapidly to save what was left his horrible drawing. He whipped out a pen from his bag, and uncapped it with his teeth.

_'Michael,'_

~

_'I miss you more than the sun could miss the stars in the morning.'_ Michael read off the page in his head. He had gotten mail just the next day, and he didn't need to skip to the end of the letter to figure out who it was. _'Is that cheesy? I'm sorry. My feelings are all bodged. I'm a mess, Michael. I can't tell you exactly how I feel cause I have no idea. I'll tell you right now though that you are one hell of a lad.'_ At that, Michael melted, and clutched his tea-smelling blanket closer to his body. _'Please be patient for me.'_ A few lines down, a chicken-scratch-like signature read: _'Love, Gavin'._

In the quiet of the morning, Michael stared at the letter and said in a hushed whisper, so the sunrise couldn't hear him, "I'm nothing like a star, Gavin Free."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it's like 10:00pm I've been writing this one chapter for 7 hours, trying to revise and stuff. Two chapters in one day! good or bad? certainly must entertain you guys.  
> I love you lads and gents/lasses and gentettes


	3. Dirty Secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this took a while! I just got back in school and... well... yknow. I'm so sorry anyone who was waiting. I'm sorry it's kinda short btw.

_'I'm not a star, Gavin Free.'_ was the first line imprinted in the letter. No intro, no 'dear' shit, just straight into the words that filled part of the paper. _'It's kinda like I'm the Earth and you're the fucking moon that orbits me everyday. I don't mind though. It's okay that you don't know yet. How you feel about me, I mean. I think I've figured out what I want. I want pizza at midnight and playing games with you until it's so early, the Sun already greeted us. I just want you for a really long time. You're my Gavin. You're my boi, and you'll always be my boi.'_ Near the bottom of the page, some words were scribbled out, some still legible. _' ~~I love you Love, Michael.~~ Please come home soon, ~~please~~.'_ Gavin turned.

"What'd he say?" Dan said. He had just barely woken up thirty minutes ago. His voice was raspy and weak, like maybe the glass had actually hit his throat. He was obliviously shirtless, and Gavin could see the impact scars clearly. They were pink, matching a couple scars on his shoulder he had gotten in the army. Gavin swallowed, trying to push his vision aside and back to the letter.

"He misses me, a lot." He brushed his hair aside, blushing as his Adam's apple bobbed in his flustered state. He didn't want to admit their feeling for new found feelings for each other, as again, they were new and honestly, Gavin was never good with long distance. He could never _not_  be holding him, but he couldn't, and sadly, every beautiful thought of him hurt. It would be painful to try not to tell everyone ever that Michael Jones kissed him in an airport. _A goddamn airport._

Dan gave his usual throaty laugh, but it sounded similar to a cough, and it made Gavin scared and uncomfortable. He wanted to shove some cold medicine down his mouth.

"I think I missed you more."

"What? You saw me just a week before your parents called me and told me you were bunged up."

"When I got my x-ray, all I could think was, 'bollocks, Gavin's gonna shit his pants!' I was scared you'd really be worried. I was the one who told my parents to call you." Dan described dramatically, involving his hands to motion with his speech.

"Seriously?" Gavin said, and he leaned in slightly to the boy, prompting him to whisper back.

"Seriously."

"I was so-" Gavin began.

Before he could form his fourth word, Dan had pulled him in, kissing him on the cheek in one brisk motion, and Gavin stood still in shock, taking the collapse of scruffy beard and Dan's lips to his face.

"I had missed you so much. You don't understand." Dan blushed despite the lack of blood flow around his body because of his weak heart.

Gavin said nothing, just stood, and understood.

~

It's been about two weeks now. Michael sighed, logging onto Xbox at home alone. The screen lit up the entire room around him, casting shadows behind the couch and other furniture. It looked serene, and Michael enjoyed it. The logo came up briefly, before passing by and loading up the title screen. He saw in his inbox he had a message, and without hesitation, he opened it.

'Message Text:

GavinoFree sent you a voice message.'

His heart melted just seeing it, and played it quickly.

"I love you too, silly Micool." He could hear the smile behind his voice. He must have just finally gotten around to setting up an Xbox in his hotel.

Michael smiled like a dope in his dark apartment. Little did he know that right now, deep in the hospital Dan rested at, Gavin slept in his bed with him like a puppy. Gavin never intended to tell him anyway. Michael was oblivious to that. Whatever he had with Gavin, was disintegrating in the background of the love letters.

Michael was still alone though. He had a few friends, like the empty beer bottles next to him, but other than that, he was very alone. Yes, Michael would've admitted he'd had a few drinks. Nothing serious, but the line between buzzed and drunk was most definitely crossed. Michael Jones was drunk as fuck.

He played the voice recording over and over again until it wasn't words, it was just sounds. Sure, they were gorgeous sounds, but just sounds that Michael loved for some reason.

He layed back, and began to undress to pass out on the couch. The first thing to his the carpet was his shirt, exposing his semi-squishy and semi-muscular exterior. He had no idea how to describe it really. Next thing was his pants, but before he dropped them, he checked the pockets out of habit for his phone. Sure, digging in there, he found his phone, but when checking the other pocket, _something poked his hand_.

He hadn't washed those jeans in a while, so he thought maybe he left a pencil or pen in there, but gripping the anonymous object and fishing it out caught his eye for another reason. It was thin shards of a beer bottle, covered in dry alcohol and a little bit of blood. It took him a moment to realize it was his own bodily fluid.

"Fuck." He slurred slightly, stumbling out of the chair and tripping, which would cause a nasty carpet-burn to appear in the morning. He walked to the bathroom, glass in hand, and turned on the light. The sudden appearance of a face startled him, and he stumbled back, dropping the glass. It was his own face, surrounded by dark auburn hair that framed his chin nicely, but frizzed at the top like a static cloud.

He looked down at his hand, now in the bathroom light. A thin cut about two centimeters long stretched across his palm, just under the start of his ring finger and middle finger. Blood lightly beaded in some areas, proving he did- in fact- break skin.

He leaned down, careful not to fall, and gripped the sharpness. He placed it on the counter in front of him.

Those _tiny_ things did that to him? How so, and why so? What had Michael done wrong?

Maybe it proved that tiny things were powerful, like the scrawny Brit who took his heart. Or, well, Michael laughed and looked down at his boxers. He was never too impressive length-wise.

He looked at the tiny, powerful things again. He gripped one without thinking too clearly, digging it into his palm until an accidental hiss came out of his mouth. These tiny things really _could_ do a lot. They'd do a lot for him. They made both his palms bloody, and to be frighteningly honest, the numbing and burning sensations had taken the drunkness and pain away. He took it, and pressed it into the crook of his elbow, and made a skin-deep cut across the inside of his arm. It beaded up like a ruby necklace, until gravity took place and the beads all dripped together, down his palm, and on to the floor.

These tiny things would be his dirty secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, ignore the size-thing with Michael there.  
> ...  
> Not gonna let it go? No?  
> ... :/  
> I get tired of the assumption that everyone's dick is like 10 inches. I wanted a 'Small'!Michael to maybe real it up a bit.   
> Please don't hurt me. I love him. No offence was aimed at Michael. 
> 
> MOVING ON  
> Updates for this will begin taking a while. I have school still, and my birthday's in a couple days, plus I have band, so my schedule is kinda tight. I apoligize.  
> I love you all <3

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck you made it through? Hello, um, loyal readers. Oh my god *hug* I love you. I'll be writing more, so stay tuned. You gorgeous fucks. Thanks for giving me a chance.


End file.
